


The Fatherhood Chronicles - A Disappearing Act

by Aragarna



Series: The Fatherhood Chronicles [16]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Comfort/Angst, Family, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:11:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aragarna/pseuds/Aragarna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter and Little Neal have to do the groceries, and Peter loses his son in the giant store...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fatherhood Chronicles - A Disappearing Act

  
“Here, Pumpkin, hold my hand. This is a big supermarket, I don’t want to lose you in this giant maze.”

With his free hand, Peter reached for his pocket and retrieved the grocery list. Then, firmly holding his son with one hand, and pushing the cart with the other, Peter ventured through the aisles of the large store.

Elizabeth was usually the one doing the errands, but she was in bed, fighting an infection and a fever, and Peter had been running the household for almost a week all on his own. The first days were fine, mostly a question of organization, but as the fridge emptied and the “quick fix” dinner options ran out, he was faced with more complicated challenges, of actually making meals for he and Neal, while preparing some soup for El.

“We need some vegetable, to make Mom a good soup,” he told Neal.

The little boy nodded. He hadn’t complained about a single thing – neither the weirdly sticky mashed potatoes, nor the three days of pastas, or the long wait after school until Peter could pick him up – and here, again, he was mostly showing a brave face. Neal didn’t let much show, but Peter knew he was worried about his Mom being sick and stuck in bed. He wasn’t used to see his mother like that.

“How long will Mom be sick?” Neal asked.

“She should feel better in a few days. She was already feeling a little better this morning,” Peter said reassuringly, as he weighted the vegetables and fruits and put them in the cart. “Come on, let’s go to breakfast, where is it?”

Circulating the aisles one by one, they slowly but surely managed to fill up the cart. Peter wasn't always a hundred percent sure he was taking the right product or the right brand, but it should do until El got back to her feet. It wasn't long until Neal started dragging his feet, tired and bored and his hand weighted heavily in Peter’s.

“Dad?” he asked with a small voice, pointing at a stand with big shinny plastic red trucks. “Can we go there?”

“We’ll go at the end. We need to finish this first. Okay?”

Neal shrugged, his eyes still on the trucks. “Okay…”

“How about we buy some ice-creams?” Peter offered, trying to cheer his boy up.

Neal shrugged again.

Peter gave him a sympathetic look and ruffled his hair. “We’re almost done, buddy. Just a couple more things.”

He looked down on his list. “Oh shampoo. Let’s go, it’s over there, give me your hand.”

They walked to the aisle where all the bathroom products were on display.

“Hmmm, shampoo…”

Of course, the list, written by Elizabeth, for Elizabeth, didn’t precise which one. Peter wasn’t even sure whose shampoo needed refill. He tried to put himself in El’s shoes as she’d write the list. If it was his shampoo, or Neal’s, it would have been listed _Peter shampoo_ or _Neal shampoo_. That made sense. So just _shampoo_ was likely referring to El’s. Good. Now which shampoo did El use already?

Peter stared at the long line of shampoos. Why did they have so many? Did people really need so many different shampoos? A shampoo’s a shampoo, right?

He tried to summon memories of El's shampoo bottle. It was red - unless that was her conditioner.  He picked one bottle from the shelf, but another one caught his eyes. This one definitely looked familiar. He reached out for that one and compared the two bottles in his hands.

He better got it right. With those giant packagings, would he pick the wrong one, El was going to be stuck with the wrong shampoo for a good six months.

"What do you think, Pumpkin?" Peter asked turning to his son. "This one or -"

But Neal had disappeared. "Neal?"

Peter looked right, and left, all the way down the aisle. Neal was nowhere to be found.

"Neal!" he called again, his anxiety spiking.

He dropped the two bottles in the cart and abandoning it there, he walked quickly to the end of the aisle to look at the cross aisle. Left, right. Still no Neal.

Peter’s heart rate rocketed, as he started scanning the aisles one after the other. With every second passing, and as he found each new aisle desperately devoid of Neal, an escalade of terrible thoughts assaulted him.

_Elizabeth’s going to kill me._

_What if he’s been kidnapped? You always think those things only happen to other people. He, of all people, should have known better. He shouldn’t have taken Neal to the store._

As he reached the far end of the store, Peter turned around, frantic, and retraced his steps in the other direction.

_This is your fault. How could you let this happen?_

_You’re a terrible father. Not able to take care of your own son._

“Neal?”

_Please, Neal, be there. Tell me you’re here._

_Neal’s gone. He’s gone, Peter._

He suddenly stopped, in the middle of the main aisle, short breathed, his vision starting to blur. He clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking and closed his eyes.

_Neal’s gone. It’s all your fault._

_It’s too late._

Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he snapped back. Startled, he opened his eyes.

“You okay, sir?”

It was a vendor from the store. He was looking at Peter with visible concern. His name tag indicated that his name was Bob. For some reasons, Peter couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

“My son’s missing,” he said, his voice trembling.

“He probably wandered off. How old is he?”

“Four – no five. He just turned five.”

“It’s okay, sir. Let’s look for him, I’ll ask the desk to make an announcement.”

Peter nodded. He was shaking from head to toe and he was feeling extremely foolish. This was not like him at all, to lose it like that and have a panic attack just because Neal walked away. He was probably just walking around the store. Waiting for him. Maybe he got lost?

_Or kidnapped._

Peter shook that thought away and took a deep breath, before following Bob back through the aisles. He tried to summon in his inner FBI self. _Stay in command. Keep cool and think straight._

Finally, after what seemed like Peter’s worst bit of eternity, he spotted him, his Little Neal, his treasure, crouching in a far corner and playing with one of those red trucks they had seen earlier.

“Neal!” Peter called.

Neal startled and looked up, uncertain, as his father rushed to close the distance between them. Peter fell on his knees and held his son tight in his arms.  His heart was beating hard against his ribcage, and his throat was too tight for him to say anything, so he just held his son against his heart, taking in his smell, his warmth, his presence.

After a while, Neal squirmed his way out of his father’s overwhelming bear-hug.

“I told you to stay by my side,” Peter said, his tone harsher that he intended to.

Neal looked down. He remained silent, fidgeting with the truck in his hands.

“Look Pumpkin, I’m sorry. I just – I got scared that I lost you. Just, don’t wander off, okay?”

Neal nodded.

“You like that truck?” Peter asked, in a softer voice.

Neal nodded again and a shy smile brushed his lips, as he looked up at his dad, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Okay, take it. Give me hug.”

Neal jumped to his father’s neck. “Thank you, Dad. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“It’s okay, I found you.”

Peter ruffled Neal’s hair and got to his feel. “Let’s go get our cart back. Give me your hand.”

Neal put his hand in his dad’s and they finished the errands together.

“Don’t forget the ice-creams, Dad.”

Peter laughed. “Okay, son, let’s get some ice-creams.”  


\----------------------------------------------

  
When they got home, they both were pleasantly surprised to see that Elizabeth was out of bed. She was curled up in the sofa, reading a book.

“Mom!” Neal peeped happily, throwing himself at her.

“Neal, easy,” Peter said. “Hey, Hon. feeling better?” He asked El.

“I was getting so bored in the bedroom. I needed some change of scenery. I suppose that’s a good sign. You, on the contrary, look like hell. Are you okay, Hon?”

“I got lost, and Dad was scared,” Neal said.

Peter shot El an awkward smile and shrugged. Their eyes met.

“But he found you. You know he always finds you,” Elizabeth said. She was talking to Neal, but was looking at her husband.

Peter nodded silently. He held up the grocery bags. “Going to put those away.”

“Thank you my boys for doing the groceries,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

Neal sat next to her on the sofa and waved his new toy. “Look, Mom, Dad bought me a truck!”

“He’s been a really good boy all this week, I thought he deserved it,” Peter said from the kitchen before El could object anything.

“Hey, Pumpkin, want to help me make some soup for Mom? Then, we’ll get some ice-cream.”

_Cause we both totally deserve it._

 

 

 

 

\--


End file.
